Things Aren't What they Seem
by Deana
Summary: Aramis wakes one morning feeling ill, and finds out that Porthos was sent on an errand alone for the king. When Aramis later develops a high fever, Athos fears that he'll die before Porthos returns.
1. Malaise

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 **Things aren't What they Seem**  
A Musketeer story by Deana

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Aramis sighed; he was not a happy man. First, he'd woken not feeling well, and now his closest friend was missing.

The night before, he'd gone to bed with a headache and risen that morning feeling shaky and weak, but he'd gone outside anyway and sat at their usual table. Porthos should've quickly joined him but never did, and just as Aramis was considering looking for him, he spotted Athos heading over. "Have you seen Porthos?" he asked.

Athos shook his head as he approached. "No."

Aramis stood. "Something must be wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," came a voice.

Aramis sat again as Captain Treville came over to them. "The king sent for Porthos and gave him an errand."

Aramis blinked, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't feeling well. "Alone?"

Treville nodded. "Yes, to deliver some sort of missive. Porthos didn't have time to come back here first, so he sent me a message telling you both not to worry and he'll see you soon."

Aramis sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds when a wake of weakness suddenly swept over him.

"Aramis? Are you all right?" Treville suddenly asked.

Aramis opened his eyes, glad that he was sitting down. "Of course, why?"

"You're very pale," Treville told him.

"I didn't sleep well last night," Aramis told him. That wasn't really the truth; he just didn't feel like being fussed over.

Treville nodded. Whenever Aramis said that, he always assumed that nightmares of Savoy were the cause. "I don't have anything that requires your attention today…either of you. You are free to do as you please." He looked at Athos as he said it, knowing that he would take his words to mean, 'distract Aramis until Porthos comes back'.

"Thank you," Aramis said, relieved. He really didn't feel up to doing anything.

"Perhaps you should get some sleep," Treville told him.

With Porthos gone, Aramis didn't think he'd be able to do that. Too many bad things could happen to a man travelling alone, even men as strong as Porthos. "Maybe later," Aramis said.

Treville nodded and walked off.

Aramis suddenly felt Athos' eyes boring into him and he looked up.

"Does something ail you?" Athos asked. "Treville is right; you are unnaturally pale."

Aramis sighed. "Poor sleep and a resulting headache. It's nothing."

Athos nodded, knowing the feeling. "Dreams?" he carefully asked.

"No."

"Good." Athos was relieved to hear that.

Serge came by with breakfast and they ate, though Aramis hadn't much of an appetite and left half of it on his plate.

After the mess was cleared, they remained where they sat for a few minutes.

"Anything you want to do?" Aramis asked, praying that his friend would say 'no'.

"Nothing specific," Athos answered. "You?"

"No." That wasn't the truth either; he wished they was in only one place: with Porthos on the king's errand, where they belonged...either that or lying in his nice warm bed.

Athos could see that Aramis was worried. "Porthos will be fine; your fear is unfounded."

Aramis sighed and looked at him across the table. His eyes seemed to track sluggishly and he blinked to clear his vision. "I know, I'm just...out of sorts," he answered, with a shrug.

Athos nodded before standing from his seat and coming around to sit beside him so he could watch the goings-on in the garrison.

After that, Aramis seemed to lose track of time and quickly fell asleep where he sat, dreaming that Porthos was attacked by bandits who stabbed him and took his horse, supplies, and weapons, leaving him bleeding in the grass.

With a gasp, Aramis woke up, finding himself leaning against the post behind his back. He sat up straight and looked around, finding Athos beside him watching him with a frown.

"You were dreaming," Athos told him.

Aramis blinked, bringing up a slightly-shaking hand to rub his face. "I fell asleep?" he asked, without thinking.

"That _is_ the time when most people dream," Athos said, with a slight smirk.

Aramis smiled slightly and lowered his hand.

"You look exhausted," Athos told him. "Maybe you should follow Treville's advice and go rest."

Aramis shook his aching head, which made him lightheaded. "No, I'm fine." After the dream he'd just had, he really didn't want to go back to sleep.

Athos eventually got bored sitting there and sparred with some of the youngest musketeers. Aramis watched for a while before dozing off again. He didn't dream that time, but when Athos woke him for lunch, he felt disoriented, and once again left most of his food untouched.

"Why do you worry for Porthos so?" Athos eventually asked, assuming that to be the reason for Aramis' lack of appetite. "This isn't the first time he's gone somewhere alone."

Aramis shrugged as he pushed his food around on his plate. "I don't know…I just feel like something is wrong."

"That doesn't make it true," said Athos.

Aramis nodded. "You're right." He put his fork down and sighed before looking at his friend. "I'm sorry; I'm just not good company today."

"You're always good company, Aramis," Athos said, giving one of his rare compliments. "You're entitled to have an off-day just like everyone else."

Aramis smiled at that. "Thank you." His spirits raised, he picked up his fork again and tried to eat some more, but he only managed two more bites. He simply wasn't hungry.

As the day wore on, Aramis grew progressively worse. He felt like he had no strength and there was a floaty feeling in his head that made him feel detached from everything, as if he were viewing the world from afar.

"Aramis," said a sudden voice. "Aramis?"

It took a few seconds for him to realize that he was being spoken to, and Aramis blinked up at Athos, who was bending over him with a frown. "Hmm?" was all he could get out. A hand touched his forehead and he shivered, suddenly noticing that he felt cold.

"You fool," Athos said. "Why didn't you tell me that you're ill?"

Aramis gave no answer, blinking slowly.

Athos moved his hand to his friend's cheek. "You're burning up, Aramis." Looking up towards Treville's office, he shouted, "Captain!"

Treville came out and looked over the rail before heading towards the stairs. "What is it?" he asked as he approached.

"Aramis has a fever," Athos told him.

Treville frowned and felt Aramis' forehead for himself. "He's burning up," he said, echoing Athos' words. He quickly looked around the garrison and beckoned to the first musketeer he saw. "Fetch Dr. Lemay; tell him we have a man with a high fever."

The musketeer nodded and ran off.

"Aramis," said Treville. "Let's get you to your room."

Aramis blinked slowly, giving no reaction.

The two men gently pulled Aramis off the bench, and were further worried when the sick musketeer's knees buckled and he tipped into Athos, who caught him under his arms.

"Aramis!" Treville exclaimed, putting a hand under his chin and lifting his head.

Aramis blinked again. "Porthos?"

Treville shook his head. "No, it's me and Athos. Come on." He took Aramis on one side and they carefully got him up the stairs and into his room, sitting him in a chair to take off his belt, jacket, and boots.

Aramis slumped bonelessly, eyes closed. He made a little noise that wasn't quite a groan, but it was enough for them to know that he was still awake. After they got him down to just his shirt and pants, they quickly settled him in the bed.

Treville fetched the basin of water on the dresser and wet a towel in it before handing it to Athos, who was sitting on the side of the bed.

Aramis flinched at the feel of the cold water on his overheated forehead and clumsily reached up to dislodge it.

"No, Aramis," Treville said, reaching out to hold him down while Athos put his hand on top of the towel to keep it there.

Aramis flinched again. "Too cold," he said, shivering.

Treville sighed. "It only seems that way because you're too _hot_ ," he said. "I'll fetch you another blanket."

Aramis gave no reply, but his shivering increased and he made a sound of distress.

Treville quickly got Aramis' spare blanket from a chest at the end of his bed and spread it over him, before sitting on the other side of the bed.

Aramis' eyes opened slightly before they closed again. "Porthos?" he weakly asked.

"He's not here," Athos told him. "But he'll be back."

Aramis gave a shuddering sigh and continued to shiver.

Athos patted the cloth over his friend's face before rewetting it and holding it to Aramis' forehead. He heard Treville sigh and looked at him to see extreme concern on his face…the same concern that he felt.

As they waited for the doctor, Athos had only one thought…he wished that Porthos was there.

TBC


	2. Not Helping

Dr. Lemay wasted no time in coming to the musketeer garrison. "How long has he been ill?" he asked, as he examined Aramis.

Treville and Athos glanced at each other. "Only today," said Athos. "He seemed fine this morning, except for mentioning a headache, which he claimed was a result of not sleeping well last night."

"But he was very pale," said Treville. "I noticed it immediately."

"Hmm," said Lemay, holding Aramis' wrist as he counted his pulse. "He mentioned no other symptoms?"

"No," said Athos. "He barely ate half of breakfast and lunch, and fell asleep on the bench outside. Porthos was sent on a mission alone, and I attributed Aramis' silence and odd manner as being worry for him." He sighed, wishing he'd paid more attention to his friend's unusual behavior.

Lemay lifted Aramis' shirt and peered at his skin, before doing the same with the musketeer's sleeves. "It doesn't appear to be plague; there is no rash on his skin."

"Thank God," Treville said, relieved beyond words.

"The only thing to do is try to bring his fever down," said Lemay, rewetting the cloth on Aramis' forehead. "And he needs to drink as much water as you can get into him." He stood from the bed and removed the extra blanket.

"He's cold," said Treville, watching as Aramis started shivering harder.

"Keeping him too warm will make the fever rise," Lemay explained. "I'm sorry, Aramis."

Aramis said nothing, but he shifted uncomfortably.

Lemay handed the blanket to Athos. "I'll come back later to check on him."

"Thank you," Athos said.

Lemay nodded, collected his things, and left.

"I'll go get some water," Treville told Athos, following Lemay out the door.

"Athos?" Aramis suddenly said.

Athos sat on the side of the bed and took the cloth off his friend's forehead, rewetting it again and patting it over his friend's face. "Yes?"

Aramis blinked tiredly. "What happened?"

Athos knew that fevers could confuse the mind, so he wasn't very surprised at the strange question. "You are very ill, Aramis," he said, placing the towel back on his forehead. "You have a high fever."

Aramis gave no answer and his eyes drifted closed.

Athos sighed and remained where he sat. Aramis was always so lively; it was disturbing to see him quiet and motionless. Athos realized that he should've paid more attention to his friend that morning when his behavior had been so different than his usual self.

Treville came back into the room with two pitchers of water and a cup, which he placed on the nightstand. "Sit him up."

Athos obeyed, getting an arm under their sick friend and pulling him upright. "Aramis? Have some water."

Aramis' eyes were closed as his head rested against his friend's chest. He continued to shiver, and didn't react.

Treville leaned over and gently tapped his face, which made Aramis open his eyes. "Drink this, Aramis," he said, holding the cup to his lips.

Aramis obeyed, and they were relieved when they got the whole cup into him.

Athos laid him back down gently, and they watched Aramis as he lay there quietly, the only sound in the room coming from his fast breathing.

Evening came and went with Athos and Treville sponging Aramis' forehead and face and constantly giving him water. Aramis didn't want to eat, no matter how hard they tried to convince him; he had no appetite whatsoever. He slept sometimes, but the fever made him too uncomfortable and he always woke not long after.

Near midnight, Aramis startled out of his sleep.

Treville had just rewet the cloth on his forehead, and he gently grasped Aramis' shoulder. "Take it easy," he said.

Aramis looked around the room, eyes opened wide and his breathing harsh.

Athos stood from his chair beside the bed and sat beside his friend, gripping his arm. "Calm yourself, Aramis."

Aramis gave no reply, seeming to stare at something that only he could see.

Athos shook his friend's arm, trying to break him free of whatever delirium had claimed his fevered mind. "Aramis," he said. "Look at me."

Aramis' eyes were glassy, and Athos and Treville were relieved when he blinked.

"You're safe, Aramis," Treville said, hoping that it wasn't thoughts of Savoy that were holding his mind captive.

Aramis finally spoke. "Is he…alive?"

"Who?" Athos asked, even though the answer was obvious.

"Porthos," Aramis whispered.

"Of course he is," Treville told him. "He went on an errand and will be back soon."

Aramis closed his eyes, suddenly shivering harder.

Athos took the towel off his forehead and placed his hand there instead. "His fever hasn't changed. This isn't helping," he said, holding up the wet towel.

Treville sighed. "It may be too soon; whatever this illness is, it has a tight grip on him."

Athos rewet the towel and replaced it, frowning when Aramis made a little sound of distress and moved his head slightly. "All it does is add to his discomfort."

"It's the only thing we can do, Athos, you know this."

Athos nodded and rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh.

"Get some sleep," Treville told him. "I can watch him alone for a while."

Athos shook his head; he couldn't sleep with Aramis being so sick. "You have no idea where the king sent Porthos?"

Treville shook his head.

"He picked the worst time possible," Athos remarked. Not only did Aramis not need the stress of worrying about his friend while sick, but he knew that when Porthos came back, he was going to be very upset to not have been here when Aramis needed him...

The rest of the night passed slowly, with Aramis' fever not abating. Come morning, Athos and Treville finally took turns sleeping, not able to keep their eyes open.

Aramis had slept badly all night, but exhaustion finally won and he'd been asleep for two straight hours when Serge brought breakfast in.

"He looks terrible!" the cook whispered, so as not to wake him.

Athos and Treville both sighed as they ate. Serge was right; the sick musketeer's skin was very pale, under the fever-flush on his cheeks.

Serge moved the towel and placed his own hand on Aramis' forehead. "Blimey! Poor lad." He sighed. "Porthos should be here."

A rock formed in Athos' stomach. Serge's words sounded final, as if they needed to say goodbye...

Serge turned from the bed and caught Athos' eye. "Aramis is strong," he said. "Remember that."

All Athos could do was nod.

Lunchtime approached before Aramis woke again, and he wasn't very coherent, staring at nothing most of the time through half-opened eyes and not responding to anything they said unless they repeated it. It took three tries to get Aramis to drink the cup of water that Athos placed to his lips, and as Treville held Aramis upright, he inwardly said a prayer when he felt the intense heat coming out of him.

Dr. Lemay came to check him, and didn't like what he found. "His fever hasn't changed," he said. "The only thing we can do is use leeches."

Leeches were one thing that Aramis always disagreed with, and with his status as their unofficial medic, the musketeers trusted his opinion. "He wouldn't want that," Athos said.

"I understand," said Lemay. "But there is little to be done for a fever but to use the wet cloths and try to keep him cool. When leeches draw out a patient's blood, they draw the illness out with it."

Athos shared a look with Treville before they both stared at Aramis, who lay there completely limp, eyes now closed in what they hoped was sleep.

"If his fever doesn't grow worse today, can we make that decision tomorrow?" Treville asked.

"Has he been drinking a lot of water?" Lemay asked.

"Yes," said Athos.

Lemay felt Aramis' pulse, finding it too fast, but not dangerously so. "You _could_ ," he said, hesitantly. "But in my experience, I have found that adult bodies don't tolerate fever as well as children do; if he grows worse, send for me immediately, even if it's the middle of the night."

After Lemay left, Treville sat down again and watched his sick musketeer…hoping that waiting wouldn't prove to be a mistake.

TBC


	3. Porthos Returns

As the afternoon wore on, Athos and Treville thought that they had made the right decision, as Aramis' fever didn't grow worse and he slept most of the time. Near evening, the king unexpectedly sent for Treville and he reluctantly left. Soon after that, Aramis grew restless, and Athos found that his fever had risen.

Fear seized Athos' lungs at the sheer amount of heat that radiated off his friend, and he kept rewetting the cloths that he and Treville had placed not only on his forehead, but on his chest, under his neck, and various other places. He was afraid to leave Aramis for even the moment that it would take to have someone send for Lemay, so he looked out the window and shouted to the first musketeer he saw before going back to the bed and rewetting the cloths again.

"Don't do this to us, Aramis," he nervously said, patting the wet cloth over his face. "Porthos isn't even here…if you die while he's gone, he'll be destroyed."

Aramis didn't appear to hear him. He lay there moving occasionally, making distressed noises. His breathing was harsh, and the sound filled Athos with dread. "Aramis," he pleaded. "Hold on, _please!_ Please hold on."

As if in answer, Aramis twitched and his eyes opened slightly.

"Aramis?" Athos said, rewetting the cloth and holding it to his forehead. "Can you hear me?"

Aramis gave no answer.

Suddenly, an unexpected sound met Athos' ears; someone was running down the hall, and he instantly knew who it was.

Porthos was back.

The door flew open, and there he stood. "What's wrong with him?!" Porthos exclaimed, hurrying to the bed.

"We don't know," Athos answered, relieved to see him. "He's had a high fever since yesterday afternoon."

Porthos' heart broke at the sight of Aramis laying there motionless, breathing heavily, glassy eyes half-open. He didn't appear to be looking at anything in particular, and Porthos put a hand on the side of his friend's face. He cringed at the intense heat that he felt. "Aramis," he said, gently turning his friend's head to look at him. "I'm back, Aramis."

Aramis said nothing, eyes half-closed, still breathing too fast.

Porthos glanced at Athos. "This is bad," he said, his voice shaking a little.

Athos looked at him, and Porthos could see the emotion on his face that he always kept so well-hidden.

Athos was afraid.

An actual pain gripped Porthos' stomach for a moment, at the implications. Was Aramis dying? How would they live without him?

Aramis feebly moved his head a little, making another soft sound of distress.

Porthos took the towel off his forehead and rewet it, keeping one hand on his friend's head in comfort as he patted his face with the cloth. "Take it easy, Aramis, you're gonna be fine. I'm here now; I'm here and I'm not leavin'."

Athos hoped that the sound of Porthos' voice would cut through the fever's effects on Aramis' mind, but it didn't.

Someone else was suddenly running down the hall, and the door opened as Dr. Lemay came in…only, it wasn't Dr. Lemay, it was the musketeer that Athos had sent to fetch him.

"Lemay wasn't there," the musketeer exclaimed. "There was a note on his door that he'd gone on another house call."

Athos caught his breath in shock. "Go find another doctor then!"

The musketeer nodded and ran back out the door.

Athos turned back to the bed, watching the distressed expression on Aramis' face as he continued to breathe too fast. The raspy sound to it was frightening, and Athos couldn't understand how a fever was causing that. He gathered the wet cloths that were arranged around Aramis and rewet them again, quickly placing them back.

A few minutes later, someone else came down the hall and they recognized the sound of Treville's boots. He threw the door open and strode over. "How is he?"

"Worse," said Athos. "I sent for Lemay but he wasn't in. They're trying to find another doctor."

Aramis' worsened condition was obvious; his skin was looking grayish and his breathing was very abnormal. The sight was chilling, and Treville walked forward and pulled the sheet off the bed.

Aramis immediately began to shiver.

Porthos looked up at him. "He's cold!"

Treville sighed. "We're about to make him colder." He handed the sheet to Athos. "Soak this in water. Porthos, give me a hand." with that, Treville started getting Aramis' shirt off.

A few minutes later, the wet sheet was draped over Aramis, who moaned from the contact and squirmed slightly.

Porthos sat beside him again and put a hand on his head, smoothing back the dark curls. "It's all right, Aramis, you're gonna be fine."

Aramis gave no answer as he shivered.

The time passed agonizingly slow while another doctor was being located, and when the other musketeers came back without finding one, a message was left on Lemay's door for him to find when he returned.

Aramis shivered and mumbled incoherently, and he never responded to his friends or showed any recognition. Porthos was heartbroken that his closest friend might die without ever knowing that he was there, and he refused to leave his side, clutching his hand and bathing Aramis' forehead and face with the wet cloth.

"We need to put him into a tub," Treville said. Just like Athos had done earlier, Treville went over to the window and called out to whoever was there, instructing them to fill a tub with lukewarm water. Once it was ready, Porthos gently slid his arms under his friend and lifted him, carrying him to the bath house. He spotted the tub that was full of water, but before he had a chance to put him in it, Treville made him place their sick friend on a chair first before proceeding to put Aramis' shirt back on him.

Porthos and Athos were both confused for a moment, until Treville explained that if they kept him in his wet clothes after taking him out of the tub, it should help to continue fighting the fever.

Finally, Porthos lowered Aramis into the water, clothes and all, and they weren't prepared for the reaction that they got.

Aramis' eyes shot open and he flailed, splashing water out of the tub.

"Whoa, whoa!" Porthos exclaimed, holding him down. "Aramis! Calm down!"

Aramis was shivering fiercely, seemingly trying to say something but lacking the strength and coherence. He settled for groaning again and closing his eyes.

"I've got you, Aramis," Porthos said.

Aramis made no reply.

For the next half-hour, Porthos held onto Aramis tightly lest his head slip under the water, while Athos changed the wet towel on his forehead and dribbled water over his face.

Aramis' eyes stayed closed but he never stopped shivering, showing them that he was conscious, if only barely.

Treville eventually felt Aramis' forehead and smiled. "His fever is lower."

Porthos and Athos looked at each other with relief. "How much longer should he stay there?"

Treville sighed. "I'm not sure…this is working, but it might be temporary, since it's not a cure for his illness."

So Aramis' fever could rise again…that was _not_ what the others wanted to hear.

Aramis was still shivering and breathing too fast, and Treville stuck his hand into the water, finding that it had turned cold. He placed his fingers on the side of Aramis' neck to feel his pulse and found it racing, and wondered if the cold water was too much of a shock to Aramis' body, considering the situation. "The water's too cold, I'll be right back."

Porthos looked worried. "Should we take him out until you return?"

Treville thought for a moment before shaking his head, afraid that constantly changing the temperature of Aramis' environment might do more harm than good.

Porthos turned his attention back to his sick friend, watching as he continued to shiver in the tub. He looked at Athos. "Do you think he'll survive this?" he asked.

Athos said nothing at first as he squeezed the towel to drip water over Aramis' hot face. "Yes," he finally answered.

His answer gave Porthos hope.

Treville quickly came back with a bucket of hot water and he poured in a little at a time until he was satisfied with the temperature. They kept Aramis in the tub for another half-hour before they decided to take him out.

Porthos carried Aramis back across the garrison yard, shocked that it was pitch dark outside. It was later than he thought, but even after his mission, he wasn't a bit tired…not with Aramis being so sick.

Aramis' soaked clothes dripped water the whole way, and Porthos laid Aramis on his bed just the way he was at their captain's instruction.

Treville felt Aramis' forehead again before placing a wet towel over it. Looking at the other two, he sighed and sat in one of the chairs beside the bed, prepared to keep vigil over Aramis just as he and Athos had done the night before.

Aramis continued to shiver in his wet clothes, and he suddenly groaned.

"Aramis?" Porthos said.

Aramis opened his eyes slightly.

Porthos smiled. "Aramis? Can you hear me?"

Aramis' stare was glassy, and he slowly blinked. "Porthos?" he whispered.

Porthos could've cried with joy. "That's right, I'm here," he said, tightly gripping his friend's hand.

Aramis slowly blinked again, before his eyes fell shut once more.

Porthos looked at the others with relief. "He knows I'm here!"

Athos and Treville smiled at him in response.

The rest of the night passed slowly, with Porthos not letting the others take over Aramis' care, stating that they already had done it long enough and it was only right for him to do it now. He felt guilty for not being there when Aramis needed him, even though he knew that there was nothing he could've done.

"You're here _now_ ," Athos suddenly said.

Porthos looked at him as he held the wet towel to Aramis' forehead. His fever had started to rise again.

"You feel guilty," Athos whispered. Both Aramis and Treville were asleep; the captain in his chair. "But there is no reason."

"Easy for you to say," Porthos replied. "If you were me, you'd feel guilty too."

Athos nodded; that was true. He stood and walked closer, gesturing for Porthos to remove the cloth.

"Any higher?" Porthos asked.

Athos laid his hand on Aramis' forehead and shook his head a few seconds later.

Porthos sighed with relief. "He's beating it," he said, putting the cloth back where it belonged.

Athos sighed. Just because it hadn't risen too much yet didn't mean that it wouldn't later, but for Porthos' sake, he nodded.

TBC


	4. Waiting

When dawn rose without Aramis' fever rising any further, the musketeers dared to assume that he was going to survive. The sun was barely up before the door suddenly opened and Dr. Lemay walked in.

Athos stood. "Where were you!" he exclaimed, without thinking.

"I am _so_ sorry!" Lemay said, looking exhausted as he hurried to the bed. "I was an hour away trying to deliver a baby that didn't want to be born." He took the cloth off Aramis' forehead and checked his temperature. "It's lower!"

"It was _higher_ ," said Treville. "In desperation, we put him into a tub."

Lemay made a face. "That was dangerous if the water was cold…"

"Lukewarm," said Treville. "When it turned cold, we warmed it."

Lemay nodded. "It appears that you did the right thing. I can only apologize again for not being here."

"I have a question," said Porthos. "Why does he breathe so fast when he's awake?"

"Because his heart is racing," Lemay replied as he checked Aramis' pulse. "Compare it to running. When the heart beats fast, the lungs respond in kind. High fevers increase the heart rate." He felt Aramis' forehead again and the side of his face before replacing the wet cloth. "Have you given any thought to the leeches?"

"Leeches?!" Porthos exclaimed, having not been there when Lemay had proposed them.

Treville frowned. "With his fever being lower, do you still insist on it?"

Lemay shrugged, considering how opposed they were to the idea. "The water lowered his fever, but that doesn't mean that it won't increase again. Prolonged high fever in anyone is _never_ a good thing."

Treville sighed and looked at the others. Athos and Porthos both appeared to be against the idea, but Athos not as much, likely from seeing Aramis since the beginning of his illness while Porthos did not.

"Can't we wait?" Porthos said. "If his fever doesn't rise again…"

"We already waited," said Athos. "And his fever rose without a doctor nearby."

"You want him to let leeches suck blood out of Aramis?!" Porthos exclaimed in shock, rising from his chair.

"No!" Athos answered, standing himself. "But if Aramis' fever rises again, we might lose him!"

They both stood staring at each other, until a sudden sound met their ears; the sound of heavy breathing.

Athos and Porthos turned to see Treville beside the bed with one hand on Aramis' head and the other on his chest. Aramis' eyes were open, and he looked nervous. Realizing that they'd startled him awake with their shouting, they both sat on the bed.

Lemay had Aramis' wrist in his hand, checking his pulse again. "Don't upset him!" he commanded.

Athos and Porthos had both grabbed onto Aramis' arms and were quietly waiting for him to calm down, not wanting to interrupt what the captain was doing.

"You're safe, Aramis," Treville was saying. "Try to breathe slower. Can you do that? Do you understand me?"

Aramis' eyes were still glassy, and with his fever still being high, they all knew that he probably wasn't very coherent. He made no sign of understanding Treville, staring at nothing.

Athos and Porthos shared guilty looks.

Porthos sighed and looked back at their sick friend. "Aramis?" he said, squeezing his hand.

His voice got through, and Aramis blinked and looked at him. He said nothing though, still obviously confused.

Dr. Lemay saw the pitcher of water on the nightstand and poured some into a cup, making Treville pull Aramis upright. To their relief, Aramis drank it without difficulty, before falling back to sleep after Treville laid him back down.

Encouraged by that, Athos asked, "Can we wait, on the leeches?"

Lemay sighed. "It's a risk, but considering the fact that he _is_ doing a little better…"

"We'll wait," said Porthos. "Just try not to go on anymore long house calls, huh?"

Lemay smiled slightly. "I'll do my best."

Their decision turned out to be the right one, for a few hours later, Aramis' fever appeared to have lessened even more and his sleep wasn't as restless. Dawn rose with new hope once again, and as Porthos changed the wet cloth on his friend's forehead for the hundredth time, he wished that Aramis would wake up so they could talk.

Aramis remained stubbornly asleep for another hour, but when he suddenly shifted, all three of the others quickly came closer.

"Aramis?" Porthos called, gently tapping his face. "Open your eyes."

It took a few minutes, but Aramis finally did, looking straight at him.

Porthos smiled, seeing recognition in his face. "Took ya long enough."

"Porthos?" Aramis whispered, still breathing too fast.

"Yeah, it's me."

Aramis quietly blinked at him for a few seconds as he appeared to think. "You were gone."

Porthos sighed. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Where did...you go?"

"To deliver a message for the king. But forget about that now, just rest."

Aramis was quiet for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and whispered, "I don't...feel well...Porthos."

That wasn't what any of them wanted to hear, but it wasn't surprising.

Porthos sighed. "I know, Aramis." He smoothed his friend's slightly-damp hair away from his forehead. "Just rest."

Aramis said nothing else.

"Try to keep him awake," said Treville, standing and heading for the door. "I'll go get some broth from Serge."

Athos nodded. "Aramis?" he said.

Aramis gave no answer.

Athos gently squeezed their friend's shoulder. "Aramis, don't go back to sleep, we're fetching some broth for you."

Aramis opened his eyes slightly and looked at him.

Athos smiled. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked, trying to keep him taking.

Aramis weakly shook his head.

"You came down with a bad fever," Porthos told him.

"While you…were gone," Aramis mumbled.

Those words made Porthos feel guilty again. "Yeah."

Aramis closed his eyes again. "Not your fault."

Porthos sighed.

Athos jostled Aramis' arm. "Stay awake."

Aramis gave a quiet moan in protest, just as Treville came back with a large mug.

"Sit him up," Treville commanded.

Porthos complied, pulling Aramis up into his arms and leaning him against himself.

Treville handed the cup to Athos and took the wet cloth from Aramis' forehead, dropping it into the basin of water and wringing it out.

Aramis was completely limp, eyes closed again as the side of his face rested against Porthos' chest. He could hear his friend's heartbeat against his ear, and it was soothing.

Porthos sighed at the heat that he could still feel radiating from his friend, and he watched as Athos placed the cup against Aramis' lips.

Aramis obediently drank it, but took a while, as Athos didn't want to go too fast in case his stomach couldn't handle it. Aramis had barely eaten anything the day he'd fallen ill, and he'd only drank water since.

Once all of the broth was gone, Porthos started to lie him back down, but was surprised when Aramis suddenly fisted a hand in his shirt. He was breathing heavily again, and with his fever still being high, Porthos wondered if he'd lost his coherence. Porthos stayed where he was, holding his friend tightly until Aramis' hand fell away from his shirt as he fell back to sleep.

Porthos gently laid him back down and replaced the wet cloth on his forehead. He was overjoyed that Aramis had woken and even _talked_ to them, but the prolonged high fever was weakening him more and more. How much of this could his body take?

He looked at the others, and sighed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Aramis' fever stayed the same through the day and he didn't wake at all, sleeping as if unconscious, not moving an inch. As nighttime approached, everyone's stress levels rose the longer Aramis remained that way.

Porthos sighed as he patted the wet cloth over his friend's face. "Come on, Aramis," he said. "Enough of this, yeah? Cut it out, already...you're gonna turn my hair gray early." With another sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Everyone watched, wishing for a humorous retort from Aramis, but knowing that they weren't going to get one.

Serge brought them food for supper, but they all had to force themselves to eat it. Each of them were giving the leeches second thoughts…even though Aramis' fever wasn't as bad as the previous day, it was still high and they didn't know how long their friend's body would be able to handle it.

Aramis eventually woke but wasn't very aware. He looked at them with glassy, half-opened eyes, seeming weaker and exhausted despite all the sleep he was getting.

"If there is no change by the morning, we'll call for Lemay," Treville told Athos and Porthos.

They knew exactly what he was talking about, and even though they hesitated, they both nodded.

TBC


	5. Broken

As the night wore on, Porthos remained sitting on the side of Aramis' bed, desperately hoping for morning to come quickly and wondering if he'd been wrong and leeches were the only way for Aramis to survive. He started to inwardly scold himself for letting Aramis suffer for so long instead of listening to the doctor, and late into the night when Athos and Treville were asleep in their chairs, Porthos slid off the side of the bed and knelt beside it, laying his head on the mattress and clutching Aramis' hand.

 _God,_ he prayed. _I know I'm not good at this…prayin' is Aramis' job…but please, don't take 'im from us…please…_

What seemed to be seconds later, Porthos felt his hand being squeezed, and he groggily opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming into the room, and he realized that he'd fallen asleep. With a gasp, he lifted his head to find his sick friend looking at him. "Aramis!" he exclaimed.

Athos nearly fell out of his chair and Treville was on his feet before he was even fully awake. He stumbled over and felt Aramis' forehead, his face dawning with shock at the light amount of heat that he felt. "His fever has broken!" he exclaimed.

Porthos quickly stood and sat on the bed, still holding his friend's hand.

Aramis tiredly smiled at them. "You didn't think…I would leave you…did you?" His voice was soft and weak.

Porthos was smiling ear-to-ear. "Not for a moment!"

Aramis knew that he wasn't quite telling the truth, and weakly squeezed his hand again.

Athos was smiling, a sight that they didn't see very often as he sat on the other side of the bed. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Aramis closed his eyes. "Like I was run over…by a carriage." He sighed. "How long?"

"You fell ill with a high fever four days ago," Athos told him.

Aramis was surprised, and reopened his eyes. "Four days?"

"Four terrible days," Porthos said with a sigh.

Aramis looked at him for a few seconds, before saying, "I thought you were dead."

"Why?" Porthos asked, frowning.

"I dreamed it," said Aramis, closing his eyes again. "More than once."

"You asked me if he was alive," Athos told him. "I told you that he was."

"But he was gone," Aramis said, sounding even weaker the more he spoke. "I couldn't…understand why."

"No more talking, Aramis," Treville said. "You haven't eaten in three days; I'll fetch you some soup."

Aramis nodded slightly.

Treville left, and Athos and Porthos stared at their friend.

"What was…the message?" Aramis asked, eyes still closed.

Porthos sighed. "The king is trying to come to some kind of agreement with a Spanish baron who lives in France...he's a Moor."

Athos and Aramis instantly understood. Porthos was chosen to deliver it because of his skin color.

"Ah. Makes sense," Aramis teased.

Porthos was still clutching his friend's hand, and he squeezed it, overjoyed to see Aramis _able_ to joke. "I wish I'd been here, though," he said.

"Me too," Aramis whispered back, sounding half-asleep.

They let him rest quietly until Treville came back with the soup, and then they gently sat him up and Porthos fed it to him.

Aramis was too weak to protest and let him do it, before dozing off.

Once he was asleep again, the other three looked at each other with relieved smiles.

Treville felt Aramis' forehead and found the remaining fever to be very mild. "He beat it."

"Without leeches!" Porthos said.

Athos was so relieved that he couldn't even express it. "You were right," he told Porthos, clapping him on the shoulder.

Porthos smiled and slung an arm around his friend's neck.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next few days, all Aramis did was eat and sleep. Athos and Porthos never left his side, and when Dr. Lemay came to check on him, he was happy to pronounce Aramis as being on the mend.

On the morning of the seventh day since he'd fallen ill, Aramis woke to the sound of chirping, and turned his head to find a bird sitting on the windowsill. Smiling, he slowly sat up and watched as it flew away, before looking to the other side of his bed to see Porthos sitting in his chair. "Morning," he said with a smile.

"Morning." Porthos smiled back. "How you feelin'?"

Aramis was still weak and he knew it, but his headache was gone and his fever had not returned. "I'm fine," he said.

"I wouldn't say 'fine', but you are compared to a few days ago," Porthos said. "You almost died."

Aramis sighed. "Well, I didn't, and I'd like to go outside please."

Porthos blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Outside?"

Aramis nodded.

Porthos thought for a moment. There was no real reason why Aramis shouldn't, as long as he didn't overexert himself.

The door opened to admit Athos, who was carrying a tray loaded with breakfast. "You're awake."

Aramis nodded. "I was serenaded."

Athos shot a puzzled look at Porthos.

"By a bird, not _me_!" Porthos answered.

Aramis chuckled.

Athos smiled slightly and placed the tray on the bedside table. "Feeling better?"

"Well enough to go outside," Aramis told him.

Athos had the same surprised reaction as Porthos.

"I don't plan to stay in bed forever," Aramis said.

Athos looked at Porthos, who shrugged. "The fresh air might do him good."

"It absolutely would," Aramis agreed.

Athos nodded. "All right," he said, handing him a plate. "Eat everything here and we'll take you outside."

Aramis wasn't surprised at his trick, and it took nearly half an hour for him to eat and then dress with his friends' help; standing after lying down for so long had made him too dizzy to do much of anything on his own.

Finally, the three musketeers headed out the door. They took the stairs slowly, ensuring that Aramis was steady. He did all right with Porthos' support and Athos' tight grip on his arm, and then they were sitting on the bench at the table...the very place where he'd fallen so ill days before.

The day was pleasantly warm and Aramis closed his eyes, sighing with bliss at the feel of the sun on his face. He felt someone sit beside him, and Porthos' arm suddenly snaked behind his back and pulled him to lean on his shoulder.

Athos sat beside him on the other side, and Aramis soaked up the warmth from the sun and the presence of his friends. He'd nearly dozed off before one of them spoke.

"Aramis?" Porthos said. "Where in the world did you pick up that fever?"

Aramis sighed, eyes still closed. "Remember a couple of weeks ago, when I found that child in the marketplace?"

 _The sound of crying met Aramis' ears, and he suddenly spotted a young boy huddled in a doorway, hiding from the bustle of the vendors and customers. Aramis looked around and saw no one who appeared to be family to the boy, so he walked over and knelt before him. "Hello," he said._

 _The boy said nothing, staring at him with a sniffle._

 _"Are you lost?"_

 _The boy nodded._

 _Aramis took something out of the sack that he was carrying. "Would you like an apple?"_

 _The boy's eyes lit up and he nodded._

 _Aramis smiled and handed it to him, before reaching out his hand. "Let's see if we can find your mother," he said._

 _The boy took his hand to stand, and made no protest when Aramis lifted him—which was concerning under different circumstances, and Aramis said a quick prayer that no one with bad intentions would ever come upon this trusting child._

 _"Thank you," the boy suddenly said, as he leaned against Aramis' chest eating the apple._

 _Aramis smiled as he walked. "You're welcome. Do you know colors?"_

 _"Mmm hmm."_

 _"Can you tell me what color dress your mother is wearing?"_

 _The child thought for a few seconds, before exclaiming, "Blue!"_

 _"All right," Aramis answered. "Do you see her anywhere?"_

 _The boy looked around before shaking his head, and his hair flopped over his eyes. He giggled._

 _Aramis chuckled and brushed the boy's hair back so he could see. He was surprised to feel that his forehead was very warm, but before he could react, a pair of hands grabbed his arm and swung him around, before snatching the boy away from him._

 _It was a very scared woman, and her dress really was blue. She ran off with her son before Aramis could say anything._

 _The boy had his arms around his mother's neck and the apple sticking out of his mouth, and he waved at Aramis over her shoulder._

 _Aramis smiled and waved back. He took another apple out of the sack—with the same hand that had held onto the boy's—and took a bite out of it as he walked away._

"So he was ill," Athos said.

"Yes; he had a fever," Aramis answered, glancing at him. "I never expected to catch it from him."

"I can't believe you caught it so _bad_ ," Porthos said.

Aramis nodded. "Me neither."

His friends purposely fell silent so he could relax, and as Aramis rested against Porthos' shoulder, he thought back to seven days prior, when he'd sat in the same spot with his steadily increasing fever, worrying whether or not Porthos would come back alive from his solitary mission. Things weren't what they seemed, and he knew now that his mind had been affected by his fever, which caused him more fear for Porthos than was necessary. With his body now recovering and his unharmed friend's arm currently around him in silent support, he closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. He felt Porthos' arm tighten its hold in response, and he smiled.

Aramis was happy.

THE END


End file.
